


Things You Did to Me Last Night

by toyhto



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Geralt drinks too much and loses his memory, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:54:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22799665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toyhto/pseuds/toyhto
Summary: Obviously, Geralt did something last night that upset Jaskier. Jaskier just won't tell him what that was.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 91
Kudos: 841





	Things You Did to Me Last Night

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Things You Did to Me Last Night](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23635243) by [kayabiter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kayabiter/pseuds/kayabiter)



> So, did I write another story in which they're being very stupid and then eventually figure it out? Yes I did.
> 
> This is loosely inspired by this [Daily AU prompt](https://dailyau.tumblr.com/post/190896292337/ive-been-madly-in-love-with-you-for-years-but-i).
> 
> You can say hi to me on [tumblr](http://toyhto.tumblr.com)!
> 
> Also, this is humor and romance and maybe fluff and these two boys obviously love each other. But the large amounts of alcohol have been consumed (don't do that at home, kids!). So if you feel uneasy about that, you can check the A/N at the end of the story for some possible trigger warnings. There will be spoilers though (kind of, since I think we all have a good guess already about what happens in this story).

Something had gone terribly wrong. And what was worse, Geralt had no idea what that was. He asked Jaskier, and Jaskier said to him that absolutely nothing was wrong, everything was great, and there was nothing he should be worried about, and he hadn’t done or said anything funny last night. With those exact words, and a few more. Even though Jaskier always talked a lot, that amount of words seemed suspicious, and it didn’t help that he kept flinching every time Geralt took a step towards him.  
  
“Did I do something?” Geralt asked, even though Jaskier just had told him very pointedly that he hadn’t.  
  
“No,” Jaskier said, staring at him with wide eyes, “of course not. Don’t you _remember?_ ”  
  
Geralt shook his head.  
  
“Holy shit,” Jaskier said, looking very tired. He took a deep breath. “You did nothing, Geralt. I trust that you don’t mind if I go for a walk? I need to be alone for a moment.”  
  
“Alone?”  
  
“We weren’t going to leave the town until tomorrow, right? Great. So I thought. I’ll just… I’ll go and… I’ll be back. Just don’t leave without me.”  
  
“Of course I won’t leave without you,” Geralt said and stared as Jaskier left the room without his lute, and without his boots. After a few seconds, he came back for the boots. “Are you sure I didn’t do something?” Geralt asked.  
  
“No,” Jaskier said, “yes,” and then he left again and closed the door.  
  
Geralt stared at the door for a moment, but Jaskier didn’t come back. He couldn’t figure out why Jaskier didn’t tell him what he had done. Perhaps he had killed someone. But he was sure he would remember that, no matter how much he had been drinking last night.  
  
He took a deep breath and sat down on the edge of the bed in which he had woken up this morning with a headache and a sour taste of last night’s ale in his mouth. He had been alone in the bed. The inn room where they were staying had only one bed, so Jaskier and he had shared it for the three nights they had spent in the town. But this morning, Jaskier had already been up, sitting in a chair in the opposite corner of the room, mending his clothes. Jaskier never mended his clothes. He threw them away and bought new ones, which was goddamn annoying and Geralt had said that many times.  
  
“Hello,” Jaskier had said, staring at Geralt.  
  
“Why aren’t you in bed?” Geralt had asked, only his voice had been so hoarse he had had trouble making sense of the words himself.  
  
“I woke up early,” Jaskier had said. Jaskier never woke up early. But what had been more worrying had been the way he had looked at Geralt: like he thought something was wrong.  
  
Geralt drank some water and tried to remember what he had done last night. There had been a party, and he had drunk some ale. He didn’t often drink much ale, but when he did, he usually didn’t get drunk. But when he did, he didn’t do anything stupid. Once or twice he had got pulled into a fight or a political conflict or a rescue mission, but it had always been someone else’s fault. And to be fair, he often ended up getting involved in things like that when he was perfectly sober.  
  
He shouldn’t have gone to the party. But Jaskier had insisted. He had reminded Jaskier that the last time they had gone to the party together, Geralt had ended up with a child of surprise. And then Jaskier had said that he was bored, and they had been on the road for _weeks_ and he wanted to dance. Geralt had said he was sorry Jaskier was bored, but he couldn’t even take care of one child, so to acquire _another_ would be a catastrophe. Jaskier had grabbed his shoulder and said that he really, really wanted to go to that party. And then Geralt had said yes.  
  
He hadn’t hated the party at first. But then Jaskier had started talking to two young women who had seemed to like him a lot, and Geralt had started drinking ale. He remembered thinking that this time, if he accidentally saved someone, he wouldn’t say anything about the law of surprise. He would ask for a puppy and give it to Jaskier. He also remembered telling a bunch of young arrogant fools that what they were talking about him was bullshit, and then he and Jaskier had left the party. Everyone had been alive at that point. He was almost certain of that. And Jaskier had kept his hand on Geralt’s shoulder as they had walked through the town, back here in their room. It had been nice.  
  
He didn’t remember anything else, but what else could there be? Had he left the room and gone back to the party? Why the fuck would he have done that? He couldn’t think of anything that would have made him leave, if he had been in his room alone with Jaskier. Unless, of course, Roach had been in danger.  
  
He rushed to the stable so quickly he realized only there that he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Roach looked at him like he was an idiot, and he patted her on the neck and said that she was probably right. He was an idiot. He just couldn’t figure out what he had done. But he was happy she was alright.  
  
When he went back to the room, Jaskier was still gone. He sat down in the chair and stared at Jaskier’s lute. It looked lonely without Jaskier.  
  
Goddamn. He would wait until Jaskier came back, and then he would make Jaskier tell him what had happened.  
  
  
**  
  
  
When Jaskier finally came back, Geralt was so relieved that he didn’t remember how to talk.  
  
“You’re still here,” Jaskier said, looking at him warily.  
  
That was a stupid thing to say. Of course Geralt was still here. What was he going to do without Jaskier, leave?  
  
He cleared his throat. “Hmm.”  
  
“Yeah,” Jaskier said, walked to the bed and took off his boots. “So, how was your day? Fine?”  
  
“No,” Geralt said. Jaskier looked healthy and unharmed, only a little tired. But whatever it was that Geralt had done wrong at night, Jaskier hadn’t yet forgotten about it. That was obvious. Normally, Jaskier would have walked straight to him and patted him on the shoulder or something else ridiculous, or maybe offered to comb his hair. Now Jaskier didn’t even stare at him. “Jaskier -,” he began but got a little distracted about how low his voice was.  
  
“I’m sorry, Geralt,” Jaskier said, still not looking at him. “It’s been a long day. Maybe we should just go to bed.”  
  
Geralt didn’t want to go to bed. He wanted Jaskier to look at him. Normally he found that annoying, but now it seemed he couldn’t function when Jaskier was avoiding his gaze. Maybe he had become addicted to Jaskier.  
  
He had to ask Jaskier what he had done. “Did I kill someone?”  
  
Jaskier stopped undressing his tunic and finally looked at him. “What? Did you… No, Geralt, you didn’t kill anyone.”  
  
“Are you sure?” Geralt asked. “Because you’re acting weird.”  
  
“I’m sure,” Jaskier said, “unless you killed someone after I left this morning.”  
  
“You were gone for a long time.”  
  
“I went for a walk, and then I went to the tavern for a dinner and a few ales, and then someone borrowed me a lute and I sang a few songs, and then there was some dancing.” Jaskier blinked. “Did you kill someone when I was dancing?”  
  
“No,” Geralt said. “But I thought, maybe last night…”  
  
Jaskier cleared his throat, then turned away from Geralt and pulled off his tunic. “So, you still don’t remember anything about last night?”  
  
“I remember that we were at the party,” Geralt said.  
  
“And?” Jaskier said, apparently staring at the box on the side table. Geralt didn’t know why. As long as he was aware, there were only ink and paper in the box. He couldn’t understand why Jaskier wasn’t staring at him instead.  
  
“And there was some music, and we talked, and then you started flirting with those women.”  
  
Jaskier glanced at him. “I wasn’t _flirting._ I was talking about modern composition styles with them.”  
  
“They liked you.”  
  
“Well, some people like me,” Jaskier said, “I can’t help it. Is that all that you remember?”  
  
“No,” Geralt said. “Some idiots were talking about me. I told them they were wrong.”  
  
“I remember that,” Jaskier said. “I tried to stop you from taking back every nice thing that I’ve said about you in my songs, but you just had to tell them that mostly your job is about sleeping like crap, not taking baths for weeks and having so many old injuries that it takes you five minutes to get up from the bed in the morning.”  
  
“I didn’t talk about my injuries to them.”  
  
“You did. You also tried to show them a few bruises, but I managed to stop you there. Why did you drink so much, Geralt?”  
  
“I don’t know.” He sat down in a chair, rested his elbows against his knees and buried his face in his palms. When he lifted his gaze, Jaskier was watching him.  
  
“Don’t you?” Jaskier asked in a quiet voice. “Don’t you, really?”  
  
He shook his head.  
  
“Okay,” Jaskier said slowly. “What else? Do you remember that we came back here?”  
  
Geralt nodded. Jaskier took a deep breath and started unlacing his trousers. His hands seemed to be shaking a little. Last night, Geralt had been so drunk he hadn’t remembered how to – “You helped me to undress.”  
  
Jaskier glanced at him. “You remember that.”  
  
“I didn’t. What happened? You’ve been weird all day. Did I leave and kill someone?”  
  
“Bloody hell, Geralt, you didn’t kill anyone.” Jaskier rubbed his face with both hands and stared at him as if he was missing something. “Don’t worry about that.”  
  
“I always worry if I kill someone,” Geralt said. “What, then? There’s no way I did something to _you._ ”  
  
Jaskier opened his mouth and then closed it.  
  
“What?” Geralt asked. He was suddenly very cold. Had he insulted Jaskier somehow? Maybe he had said to Jaskier that all Jaskier’s songs about him were sentimental and romantic. But he had said that before and Jaskier had just shrugged, so it couldn’t be that. Had he – “Did I fall on you? When you were undressing me? Is that it? Are you –“ He stood up. “Are you hurt?”  
  
“No,” Jaskier said, standing up and raising both his hands as if to calm a spooked horse. “No, Geralt, you didn’t _fall_ on me. You were pretty drunk, though. I didn’t realize you were so drunk. If I had, I wouldn’t have…”  
  
“What?” Geralt asked, taking a step towards him. “Look at me, Jaskier.”  
  
“I wouldn’t have believed you,” Jaskier said. He was looking at Geralt now, but he seemed miserable. Geralt wanted grab him and shake him until he was happy again, but somehow he doubted that would work.  
  
“What did I say?” he asked in a low voice. “If it was about your singing, I probably meant it, but I need you to know that I appreciate you anyway. It’s incredibly stupid and quite touching that you only make songs about me.”  
  
“It’s incredibly stupid,” Jaskier said, grimacing. “Geralt, you didn’t do anything stupid. You didn’t kill anyone. You didn’t even adopt a child. You were just a little drunk.”  
  
“But you don’t look me in the eyes.”  
  
“I _am_ looking you in the eyes,” Jaskier said, staring at him with his eyes wide and sad. Geralt hated it when Jaskier looked sad. He wanted to fix it, but he couldn’t, because Jaskier didn’t tell him what he had done.  
  
“But you don’t look happy.”  
  
“I am happy,” Jaskier said and smiled, “see? Can we go to sleep now?”  
  
Geralt walked to Jaskier and took his face in between his hands, then brushed his thumbs against the corners of his mouth. “You don’t smile like this. This doesn’t look real.”  
  
“Fucking hell, Geralt,” Jaskier said, but didn’t pull his face away from Geralt’s hands.  
  
“Tell me what I did.”  
  
“No,” Jaskier said, “you didn’t mean it.”  
  
“I didn’t mean what?”  
  
“I’m not going to tell you,” Jaskier said, blinking. “I didn’t even know you could get so drunk you’d lose your goddamn memory. You’re supposed to be a _witcher._ ”  
  
“I _am_ a witcher,” Geralt said. He wasn’t sure what exactly they were arguing about, but he wasn’t going to stop touching Jaskier’s face. Jaskier had shaved his face for the party last night. Geralt rubbed his thumbs against the stubble and blinked when Jaskier licked his lips. “What were we talking about?”  
  
“Nothing,” Jaskier said. He sounded a little breathless. “It was nothing. Geralt, you’re holding my face.”  
  
“I know,” Geralt said. He wasn’t stupid or anything. He brushed his thumb against Jaskier’s mouth. His lips were a little moist.  
  
“And you aren’t even drunk,” Jaskier said. He smelled of ale and potatoes and the tavern, of tobacco and sweat and too many strange people. “What are you _doing_ , Geralt?”  
  
“I don’t know.” Geralt swallowed. “What did I do last night? Just tell me or else I will stand here and hold your face for the whole night.”  
  
Jaskier shivered and then took a deep breath. “You’re going to say that you didn’t mean it.”  
  
“Didn’t mean what?”  
  
“You’re going to hate me,” Jaskier said in a very small voice.  
  
“That’s impossible.”  
  
“No, it’s not.”  
  
“Yes, it is.”  
  
“If I tell you,” Jaskier said, “you have to promise, that you won’t walk out. You have to promise that you will stay and talk to me until you’re feeling a little less angry at me. And you have to promise that we’re still going to be friends, no matter what I tell you. Otherwise I won’t say a word.”  
  
Geralt bit his lip. _Shit._ It really sounded like he had killed someone _again._ But Jaskier was looking him in the eyes and lately, it had been very difficult to say no to Jaskier. Maybe Geralt had gotten ill or something. “Okay.”  
  
“You promise?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“You promise that we’re still going to be friends?”  
  
“I promise.”  
  
“Oh, good lord,” Jaskier said and bit his lip. Geralt touched his lip with his thumb. It looked so soft. “Geralt,” Jaskier said, staring at him, “we slept together.”  
  
Geralt blinked. “What?”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Jaskier said quietly. He looked genuinely apologizing. Geralt hadn’t known he was capable of that. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realized you were so drunk that you wouldn’t remember it.”  
  
“We slept together?”  
  
“Yes,” Jaskier said, “and I have to say, I was a little surprised that you suggested it, well, not with words, but, you know, with gestures, and let me say, those were pretty obvious gestures, and you did say that you… well, it doesn’t matter. But anyway, I was surprised, and I should’ve realized you weren’t being yourself, but I didn’t, and I –“  
  
“What do you mean, we slept together?”  
  
Jaskier cleared his throat. “Well, I mean that we made love.”  
  
Geralt frowned. “Made love?”  
  
“Yes.” Jaskier was staring at him as if he didn’t know what _making love_ meant. He shook Jaskier a little bit. “We kissed, Geralt. And then you took off my clothes. I had already undressed you, because you were drunk and didn’t remember how. Now that I think of it, that should’ve made me realize that maybe you weren’t in your right mind, but –“  
  
“Get back to the point.”  
  
“Okay. Well, then we touched each other for a while, you know, with our hands.”  
  
“Our hands?”  
  
“Yes. Exactly. And then you touched my dick, and I got kind of excited, and I touched yours, and…” Jaskier blushed. Geralt stroked the hair off his face. At least he was looking Geralt in the eyes now. And he wasn’t trying to leave the room, either. All in all, things were definitely getting better. “And then we fucked,” Jaskier said and swallowed.  
  
“What do you mean,” Geralt said, “we fucked?”  
  
“I mean,” Jaskier said, trembling a little in Geralt’s grip, “that you fucked me. That’s what I mean.”  
  
“I _did?_ ”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Jaskier said, “I thought you wanted to. You seemed very happy about it. But then this morning, I woke up so happy, and then I started thinking that maybe you thought you had made a mistake, and maybe you would wake up and tell me that you hadn’t meant anything of what you said, and that you thought fucking me was a mistake, and that we shouldn’t do it again. I started panicking. And then you slept for _hours_ and finally woke up and didn’t remember any of it.”  
  
Geralt let go of Jaskier’s face and ran his palms up and down Jaskier’s arms instead. Jaskier seemed a little shaken. That was probably because Geralt had shaken him. Or maybe because Geralt had apparently fucked him.  
  
“I would like to remind you,” Jaskier said in a small voice, “that you promised we would still be friends.”  
  
“I remember,” Geralt said. “So, I fucked you.”  
  
Jaskier nodded.  
  
“How was it?”  
  
“Good,” Jaskier said. “It was good, Geralt.”  
  
“Was I gentle about it?”  
  
“Yes,” Jaskier said, and Geralt took a deep breath. Something shifted in Jaskier’s eyes. “You were very gentle, until I asked you not to be. And then you were very good at not being gentle. You don’t need to worry about that, Geralt. I’m just sorry that I used you that way. But I really thought you meant it.”  
  
Geralt wrapped his fingers around Jaskier’s wrist and put his other hand on the back of Jaskier’s neck, where his skin was warm and a little damp. “I meant what?”  
  
“What you said,” Jaskier said, looking at him.  
  
“What did I say?”  
  
Jaskier blinked. “Didn’t I tell you?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Really? I thought I did.”  
  
“You just told me that I fucked you,” Geralt said, “gently.”  
  
“Yes, it was very gentle,” Jaskier said. He shivered a little. Maybe he was cold. Geralt wanted to take him to bed and wrap in blankets, but he couldn’t, because the conversation clearly wasn’t finished. He stepped closer to Jaskier instead. Maybe his body heat would warm Jaskier. “You don’t want me to say it, Geralt,” Jaskier said.  
  
“Say what?”  
  
“What you said to me last night. If you had meant it, you wouldn’t have forgotten about it.”  
  
“I’m sure I meant it when I fucked you,” Geralt said.  
  
Jaskier flinched. Geralt wrapped his arm around Jaskier’s back and pulled him against his chest, just to keep him safe and still. Jaskier fit very nicely in his arms, and Jaskier’s dick pressed just as nicely against the crook of Geralt’s thigh. “I can’t say it,” Jaskier said. He sounded miserable, so Geralt stroked his back.  
  
“Sing it then.”  
  
Now Jaskier laughed, but he sounded like he was also panicking. “I can’t _sing_ it, Geralt.”  
  
“You can tell me anything,” Geralt said, “I love you.”  
  
Jaskier froze.  
  
Geralt froze as well. _Shit._ Had he really said that aloud? Just like that? Well, now that he had said it aloud, it was obvious that he loved Jaskier. But he knew that Jaskier got upset when people told they loved him. He had seen it happen many times. Jaskier met a nice woman, kissed her a little, maybe slept with her, then the woman told Jaskier she loved him and Jaskier came back to Geralt, washed Geralt’s back when he took a bath, combed Geralt’s hair, slept in Geralt’s bed and stared at Geralt with his very nice eyes, and never talked about the woman again.  
  
“Sorry,” he said.  
  
“It’s alright,” Jaskier said. He had wrapped his arms around Geralt, which was probably a good sign. But he still sounded sad. “I suppose you didn’t mean that.”  
  
“Of course I meant that,” Geralt said, suddenly a little angry. “Why would I say something like that if I didn’t mean it?”  
  
“But –“  
  
“I love you,” he said, grabbed Jaskier’s shoulder’s again and squeezed them. Jaskier took a sharp breath.  
  
“Okay,” Jaskier said, “but maybe you won’t think so tomorrow.”  
  
“Of course I will.” Bloody hell, this was frustrating. “Do you think that I could say something like that and forget about it?”  
  
“You did,” Jaskier said, “yesterday.”  
  
Geralt thought about that. “What?”  
  
“You told me you loved me,” Jaskier said. He grabbed the front of Geralt’s shirt and squeezed it in his fists, and Geralt realized vaguely that he had let go of him and took a step back. Thank god Jaskier had a hold on him. “You told me you loved me, Geralt, and then you fucked me and forgot about it. And for the whole day, I’ve been thinking that I took advantage of you.”  
  
“You didn’t,” Geralt said and patted Jaskier’s hand that was holding his shirt. “I’m never going to drink again.”  
  
“Well,” Jaskier said and grimaced, only he didn’t look so sad anymore, “it was a good night until you forgot about it.”  
  
“Do you mean the fucking?”  
  
“Yes, I mean the fucking,” Jaskier said, then tightened his grip of Geralt’s shirt and pulled him closer. “And the _I love you._ ”  
  
“You were happy that I said that?”  
  
“Of course I was fucking happy,” Jaskier said, “I’ve been in love with you for _ages_ , Geralt, you _know_ that.”  
  
Geralt blinked.  
  
“You know that, Geralt,” Jaskier said, “don’t you?”  
  
“Hmm,” Geralt said.  
  
“I’ve turned down everyone who’s wanted a relationship with me,” Jaskier said, let go of his shirt and grabbed his shoulders instead. He sounded a little frustrated about something. “I’ve followed you everywhere, I’ve taken baths with you, I’ve washed your back for you, I’ve combed your hair and slept in your bed and made, like, twenty fucking love songs about you.”  
  
Geralt grimaced. “About those songs… You always make me seem better than I am.”  
  
“Yes, because I’m fucking in love with you,” Jaskier said. “That’s what musicians _do_ when they’re in love with someone.”  
  
“I just thought you were a bad writer,” Geralt said. Jaskier was kind of leaning against him again. It was nice. It made him wonder what the fucking had been like.  
  
“A bad writer?” Jaskier asked in a breathless voice. “You’re impossible, Geralt, you’re just impossible. I must be insane because I like you.”  
  
“Probably,” Geralt said, placed his hands on the low of Jaskier’s back and pulled him closer. Jaskier let out a sound that reminded Geralt of a surprised squirrel. Then Jaskier sighed in a tone that reminded Geralt very vaguely about something they had done last night. “I wish I hadn’t forgotten that we fucked.”  
  
“I wish that too,” Jaskier said, “because I kind of thought we could do it again in the morning. Not exactly the same, though, because it was a little… I’m going to need a few days to recover. But something like that.”  
  
“Really?” Geralt asked.  
  
“Yes,” Jaskier said. “But I thought we could kiss or something.”  
  
Geralt swallowed. “You wanted to kiss me?”  
  
“Of course I wanted to kiss me,” Jaskier said, “I woke up before the sunrise because I was so excited about the thought of kissing you, you asshole.”  
  
“I could kiss you now.”  
  
Jaskier took a deep breath.  
  
“And then,” Geralt said, “I need you to tell me everything about last night. I want details. I want to feel like I was there.”  
  
“Trust me, you were there,” Jaskier said and kissed him.  
  
  
**  
  
“But are you sure?”  
  
“Yes,” Jaskier said. He was laying on Geralt’s chest, his feet entangled with Geralt’s, his now soft cock pressed against Geralt’s thigh. “Yes, I’m sure.”  
  
“That doesn’t sound like me.”  
  
“It was definitely you.”  
  
“But are you sure? Maybe you were confused.”  
  
“Geralt,” Jaskier said and poked at Geralt’s chest with his forefinger, “I’ve fucking told you ten times. You put your cock in me, and then you managed to fuck me for maybe thirty seconds, and then you came.”  
  
Geralt shook his head. “That doesn’t make any sense.”  
  
“You were drunk and tired and as I said, you were very gentle. It took me ages to convince you to finally put your dick in me. It’s no wonder that you were a little excited at that point and came almost right away.”  
  
“But that doesn’t happen to me.”  
  
“Oh, bloody hell,” Jaskier said, pushed his fingers into Geralt’s hair and pulled a little. “You _asked_ me to tell you about it and now you won’t even believe me.”  
  
“What’re you doing?”  
  
Jaskier blinked. “I think I’m pulling your hair.”  
  
“I think so too,” Geralt said, watching as Jaskier got a little flushed. “Why are you doing that?”  
  
“I guess I have a thing for your hair,” Jaskier said in a small voice. “Isn’t it obvious?”  
  
“Not really,” Geralt said. “You just touch it _all the time._ ”  
  
“I can’t help it,” Jaskier said but let go of his hair and stroked his head a couple of times as if as an apology.  
  
“You can pull my hair. I don’t mind. And besides, it would be very difficult for you to hurt me.”  
  
“Please, don’t talk like that,” Jaskier said. “I just came and I can’t do another round today. Geralt?”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“Are you still going to love me tomorrow?”  
  
Geralt placed his on Jaskier’s back, in between his shoulder blades. His skin was damp and warm and he leaned against Geralt’s touch. “Yes. I’m very stubborn.”  
  
“Thank god,” Jaskier said and kissed Geralt’s chin.  
  
“My mouth’s right here.”  
  
“I know where your mouth is,” Jaskier said. “I just had my dick in it.”  
  
“I meant that you can kiss me on my mouth.”  
  
“I know what you meant,” Jaskier said, then took a deep breath and leaned over Geralt until he could kiss Geralt on the mouth. Geralt peered open one eye to see if Jaskier had closed his eyes, and then Jaskier opened one eye as well. Jaskier had very nice eyes.  
  
“Don’t look at me when I’m kissing you,” Geralt said.  
  
“Don’t _you_ look at me,” Jaskier said, but he was smiling. “Doesn’t it bother you that I’m on you? Like, all of me is on you? Like, am I not heavy or something?”  
  
“It’s like having a kitten on my chest,” Geralt said and smiled.  
  
Jaskier seemed a little shocked.  
  
“A very nice-looking kitten,” Geralt tried. “An adult cat. A tiger –“  
  
“You’re smiling to me,” Jaskier said. “Geralt, you’re actually smiling. I think you love me after all.”  
  
“I told you that multiple times.”  
  
“Well, I think it’s going to take some convincing, since you forgot about it the first time you told me.” Jaskier patted him on the chest. “I love you, as well. And you can call me a kitten.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
“Are you tired?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“I lied,” Jaskier said, “you didn’t last for thirty seconds when you fucked me last night. You lasted barely fifteen seconds. I was counting.”  
  
“You’re mean,” Geralt said and smiled a little. But he was also very tired, so he closed his eyes. He was pretty sure he could sleep with Jaskier on his chest.  
  
“Holy fuck,” Jaskier said, “you really love me.” Then he rested his head against Geralt’s shoulder and fell asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> So, about the possible trigger warnings for this story:
> 
> they have sex and Geralt is so drunk he doesn't remember it in the morning. It's definitely consensual but of course no one should drink so much that they lose their memory.


End file.
